February 10th

“When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.” John 8:7-8

they draw in closer, ready
to cast their verdict with
those stones harder than
their hearts clutched tight
in their hands—
but you stand there,
not to argue the case
nor to defend her, but simply
offering that challenge that
none of us want to take on,
and suddenly, the hand-sized rocks
become Sisyphean boulders we keep
trying to push to the top of Mount Judgment.
and as the silent wind
carries away all the accusations,
you remain kneeling on the ground,
shaping new life for her,
and all who release
their grip on self-righteousness,
from the dust of grace
which is always ready
to rewrite our stories.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 9th

“How long will you judge unjustly
   and show partiality to the wicked?” Psalm 82:2

gripping the gavel with white knuckles,
you lean forward from the bench
to ask us the question we hope
you will never ask—
‘how long?’
how long will we dress power
in fancy suits and black robes
and claim it is justice, while
the forgotten hear the sound
of the doors clanging shut behind them,
while truth is removed from
the courtrooms by masked agents?
how long will we keep tilting the scales
until the weight is sufficient for our needs
simply because evil flatters us
with names a lover would use?
how long, God asks,
not with thundering judgement
but in that heartbroken voice
of parents who see their kids
choosing shadows over
the unrewarding work of being light
how long—
before judgment remembers mercy
and the arrogant learn to kneel?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 8th

““You are the salt of the earth; . . . You are the light of the world,” Matthew 5:13-14

listen, it is not a bumper sticker—
salt doesn’t shout in our ear,
it simply sticks around,
protecting what is precious from going bad
when we sweat fear through the day
and when truth is left out
on the kitchen counter.
salt has that quiet faithfulness
like folks gathering to bear witness
in places of worship and in streets,
like those hearts which refuse
to lose the tang of gritty grace.
listen, it’s not a slogan—
light refuses to debate the shadows,
it simply walks as far into it as needed;
a candle in a cellar as the missiles
land all over their neighborhood;
a porch light turned on
for the wayward to find home.
listen, they are not meant
to be commercials for sporting events—
Jesus didn’t say, ‘try to be’
he challenged us, “you are!”
already glowing like hope
in the shadows of despair,
already to be poured out
into the lives of God’s precious ones
so season today with grace
turn on a lamp for the weary.
the world is exhausted
the shadows seem to expand
and God has trusted us
to never let the light go out,
God has poured the cost of justice
into us so it might not decay.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 7th

“O God, you are my God, I seek you,
   my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
   as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1

like a dog
with a tail wagging
fast enough to light a house,
waiting for a snowball
to be tossed, convinced
that this time it will not
explode into nothingness
when it is caught in its mouth.
like a cat who slowly
stalks the string being trailed
behind it’s servants back
as they play the game
they have done so many times.
like a kid
with money clutched
in its hands, shimmering
as the line moves
as a snail’s pace to the cashier,
so she can pay for the final book
in the series she has been reading
for years, and can’t wait
to see how the loose ends are tied,
that is how much
you long for us, dear God,
to want to find you.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 6th

“I have not hidden your saving help within my heart,
   I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation;
I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness
   from the great congregation.” Psalm 40:10


in a time when people
keeps saying we should close
our hearts to empathy just like
we close borders, may i
keep opening mine wider and wider
so your grace can embrace
the vulnerable around us.
in a world where many wonder
how many family, friends, neighbors
might turn their backs if they dare
to speak out for justice, may
i have the courage to never stop
reminding folks of your partiality
towards those who are forgotten.
in a place where folks distort
your words, even claiming Jesus
didn’t really mean most of what
he said and did and lived,
may i keep trying to follow him,
even if others think i am just
another reed bending
in the wind.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 5th

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us,” Hebrews 12:1

grandparents praying through the night,
friends who refused to step aside,
young people who left school
to ride buses to sign up voters,
saints who would burst out laughing
if anyone called them that—
they ran their race in kitchens
as well as in courtrooms,
while crossing bridges knowing
what awaited them on the other side,
who saw that justice which endures
while so many others were blind.
weary folks in scrubs,
kids in school uniforms,
check out folks in grocery stores,
bus driver watching kids get home,
all who put on their weary shoes
so they can keep running
when faith feels so thin,
who give up pride to forgive,
whose trembling hands cup fragile love,
whose whistles are held tight
in their hands, ready to be used.
they all lean toward us,
surrounding us with courage
and whispering hope—
‘toss aside those heavy fears,
keep going, don’t stop,
you are never alone.’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 4th

“Come, bless the LORD, all you servants of the LORD,
     who stand by night in the house of the LORD!” Psalm 134:1

tonight, we find them,
blessing the Lord—
not in cathedrals nor halls of power,
but where late-night nurses rinse
their hands under dim lights,
where families count the slow
breaths in hospice beds,
where immigrants sleep
with one eye open for cruelty
trying to creep in during the night,
and the other gazing at hope
sitting in the corner, watching
over them when they can’t sleep.
bless the Lord, servants of night hours—
standing guard over the vulnerable,
holding the line when fear
links arms to approach them,
singing songs of hope when faith
grows as thin as the sun in winter.
for God, who never sleeps,
especially as the world exhales
and shadows stretch toward us,
listens closely as our quiet devotion
grows like nightlight in the hallway,
and turns to the darkness and
simply says,
you do not get the last word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman